Rav Naftoli Tzvi Horowitz

The Oil from Ropshitz

Most tzaddikim's yahrzeits passed without special notice from the Shinover Rav, the author of Divrei Yechezkel. He said Tachanun on those days as on any other, and he was not accustomed to travel to their kevarim. For the Ropshitzer alone he made an exception, marking his yahrzeit and going to his tziyun, because he believed he owed the Ropshitzer his life.

It is told that at the age of seven, Rav Yechezkel Shraga came within a breath of death. His uncle, Rav Avigdor of Dukla, had come to Rudnick to see his brother, Rav Chaim of Sanz. Just as Rav Avigdor was getting into his carriage to depart, he recalled an item left indoors and asked the boy to bring it. Eager to please, the child bolted across the road, straight into the path of a speeding wagon piled high with lumber. The wheels passed over him. The doctors who examined him lost hope, and the surgeon found that his liver had been severed in two.

Rav Avigdor lifted his hands toward Heaven and pledged that if a son was meant to be born to him, he would give that son up for this boy's life. From then on he had only daughters. The Divrei Chaim, the boy's father, then laid his hands on the shattered body, and wherever he touched, the bones joined and straightened. Even in advanced age, people, doctors above all, marveled at how upright and dignified the Shinover Rav stood.

Yet the Divrei Chaim was still afraid, because the child's inner organs were injured past any natural healing. He dispatched one of his chassidim to his own rebbe, Rav Naftoli of Ropshitz, to ask for tefillos on the boy's behalf. The Ropshitzer did more than pray. He returned a flask of pure olive oil with the instruction to rub it over the child's body. Before long the boy had recovered.

As an old man, the Shinover Rav often described his rescue. He remembered feeling, while the oil was rubbed in, how his bones were mending and his organs were setting themselves right until he was whole again. Then he would sigh and say wistfully, “Where could we find such pure, holy oil today, if we needed it?”

The Badchan of Lizhensk

Rav Avigdor, Av Beis Din of Novo Sanz, passed on a tradition he had received from his grandfather, the Divrei Chaim. For about nine years, Rav Elimelech of Lizhensk and his brother Rav Zusha of Hanipoli lived as wanderers by choice, an exile meant to atone for all of Klal Yisroel. They went about like beggars, hungry and in rags, sleeping on the benches of the batei medrash. Wherever they came, they drew Yidden toward teshuvah and toward love of Hashem and of one another. Toward the end of the journey they reached Linsk for Shabbos.

Linsk's Rav was Rav Mendel, whose son Naftoli would one day become the Ropshitzer. The two brothers sat in the beis medrash looking like paupers, and all Shabbos nobody paid them any attention or offered them a meal, so they got by on dry crumbs from their bundles. When Shabbos ended and they came close to listen to Havdalah, the boy Naftoli burst out laughing and teased them, twisting their names into silly rhymes.

Rav Mendel then told them he knew exactly who they were. After wandering so long, he said, his own face would look better than theirs, and they would mend more of the world by eating well than by fasting. He handed them three coins for tzedakah, and on inspection they proved to be three silver francs, a huge amount for them. Fearing an error, Rav Zusha said, “The Rav told us to serve Hashem by eating. Let us see whether this buys all the food we need. If it does not, we will know it was no mistake.” They wandered another year on those coins, and when they came back to Linsk, Rav Mendel snapped his fingers and said, “Now you have carried out what I intended.”

After Rav Mendel's passing, Naftoli longed to go to Rav Elimelech, by then a renowned Rebbe, and become his talmid. The memory of how he had mocked the tzaddikim made him hesitate, but in the end he resolved to ask their forgiveness and request to be accepted. Rav Elimelech knew by Wednesday who his Shabbos guests would be, and he cautioned his gabbaim not to let the Ropshitzer in without his permission. As Rav Naftoli reached the doorway, the Rebbe blocked him and said, “Here comes the son of that murderer.” He slammed the door, and Rav Naftoli fainted. A little brandy revived him, and then Rav Elimelech sent him away.

With what was left of the brandy in hand, Rav Naftoli went to the beis medrash, where the chassidim were worriedly talking about a wedding that very night between two orphans. The chosson had no tallis to receive as a gift, and no food or drink had been arranged, so the chasuna might be called off. Since Rav Naftoli came from a wealthy family, borrowing money and buying on credit was easy for him. He purchased a new tallis for the chosson and all that the feast required. Then he stood on the table and played the badchan, with rhymes, jokes, songs and dances, until joy filled the whole hall.

Meanwhile Rav Elimelech was waiting for him. He davened Maariv, knowing it would not succeed, and then tried Tikkun Chatzos, which also failed. Disturbed, he wondered whether the fault was his own, or whether something improper, such as mixed dancing, was going on at the chasuna, and he sent his shamash to see. On the table stood Rav Naftoli, disguised as a hunchback with a long beard of flax, in the middle of his performance. The shamash failed to recognize him, though Rav Naftoli knew the shamash at once. Rav Naftoli leapt down, and danced with him until the shamash felt his bones mending and was swept up in spiritual bliss. When the shamash did not return, Rav Elimelech went himself. The shamash ran out to meet him and pleaded with him to turn back, saying that a lunatic inside was seizing newcomers and dancing with them, and that nothing improper was happening at the wedding. The Rebbe went home.

The next morning Rav Naftoli came in and asked, “So, Rebbe, how was your Chatzos last night?” “Naftultshe,” said Rav Elimelech, “how do you know about my Chatzos?” Rav Naftoli answered, “We were together on high. They would not let Your Honor in, but I was admitted, because I made everyone happy at the chasuna, and in Shomayim they did not want your sorrowful Chatzos to disturb the simcha.” The sefer Ayala Shelucha preserves one of the gematrias Rav Naftoli used as badchan, a blessing that the couple's union be good and beautiful.

A second telling says that when Rav Naftoli first arrived, Rav Elimelech sent him off, explaining that he was not looking for people of distinguished lineage. Rav Naftoli left in tears, then heard music and rejoicing, followed the sound to a wedding, and entertained there as badchan. Rav Elimelech, meanwhile, found that he could not say Tikkun Chatzos, as if something were holding him back. Twice he sent his shamash to find some sinner whose deeds were blocking his tefillah. The second time the shamash found the young man the Rebbe had turned away and reported that his jokes must be the cause. Rav Elimelech understood the reverse: the young man had caused all the heavenly hosts to rejoice with chosson and kallah. Giving such joy was like rebuilding one of the ruins, so who could mourn at such a moment?

The Tailor's Son

It is told that a young man named Asher Yeshaya was immersed in learning in a Warsaw beis medrash when the Ropshitzer came to the city. The Rebbe sat down with him, traded Torah thoughts, and warmed to him at once. He inquired after the young man's father and learned that the man was a tailor. Wanting to know where the tailor worked, the Rebbe explained that his bekeshe was ripped and needed mending.

While the tailor sewed, the Ropshitzer raised the idea of a shidduch between Asher Yeshaya and his own daughter. The tailor glanced at the Rebbe's tattered garment, concluded he had no means, and brushed the idea off with a laugh. His townspeople had already brought him fine proposals, some promising dowries of thousands of rubles, he said, and he had accepted none. “Go and tell the Rav of the town, the Chemdas Shlomo, that the Ropshitzer Rav is proposing this match,” said Rav Naftoli. Learning that his visitor was a Rav changed the tailor's attitude, and he hurried to the Chemdas Shlomo, who urged him to take the opportunity.

Chassidim relate that the followers of the Chozeh of Lublin, the Ropshitzer among them, used to submit shidduch ideas to him written on a kvittel, and he would tell them whether it was a good match. The Ropshitzer was weighing two young men for his only daughter, Ratzchi, one of them Asher Yeshaya. He traveled to Lublin to ask the Chozeh, who favored the other candidate. The Ropshitzer saw it differently. He hastened to Warsaw and finalized the match with Asher Yeshaya, then returned to Lublin to receive his Rebbe's mazel tov. On seeing a different name on the kvittel, the Chozeh said, “A sage is greater than a prophet,” and added, “A sheina Korban Pesach'el, a lovely Pesach offering.” Nobody grasped his meaning until, many years later, Rav Asher Yeshaya Rubin passed away on Erev Pesach. Then it was clear: his soul had been taken up on high as that year's Korban Pesach.

A different tradition holds that the Ropshitzer arranged the match first and traveled to Lublin only after the tenaim, and that the Chozeh was displeased. Later, once the young man had lost both his parents, the Ropshitzer took him to Lublin. This time the Chozeh was delighted and repeated, “A sage is greater than a prophet.” After the chasuna, on the Shabbos of Sheva Berachos, the Chozeh gave the young man the honor of leading Birkas HaMazon, and did so again at the Shabbos day meal. The Ropshitzer said he feared the ayin hora, and the Chozeh remarked of Rav Asher Yeshaya, “A kosher Korban Pesach'el.”

How to Eat a Tefillah

The holy Ropshitzer davened quickly, while the Chozeh of Lublin, who was also one of his rebbes, davened slowly. Once the Ropshitzer led the Chozeh's minyan and tried his best to match his Rebbe's pace, but as usual he finished early.

“Why do you daven so fast?” asked the Chozeh. As always, Rav Naftoli answered with a joke. “When someone loves his food, he gobbles it up,” he said, hinting at how much he loved every word of tefillah. “I see,” said the Chozeh. “I love the food too, but I prefer to savor each bite and draw out its taste.”

The Ropshitzer would not be outdone. “Rebbe,” he said, “your food is piping hot, so you must eat it slowly, whereas mine is...” and he let the sentence trail off.

The Chicken and the Sick Man

A complicated halachic question about a chicken was once brought to the Ropshitzer. He ruled that it was kosher, and his talmidim began to argue, bringing proofs that the chicken was a treifah and that his ruling was mistaken. After a while the Ropshitzer cut them off. “I rule that this chicken is kosher,” he said, “and nothing you say will change my ruling.”

Just then a deathly ill man walked in with a kvittel and asked for a berachah. The Ropshitzer said aloud, “A chicken with supposedly the same ailment as this sick Yid was just brought to me, and I ruled that it is kosher. Therefore I tell you that this condition is not a treifah, and you can surely live with it.” He turned to the sick man and said, “Do you hear my ruling? I say that you will live, and you will have a complete recovery.” And so it was.

A Distant Relation

A man in great need of a yeshuah wrote his name and request on a kvittel and brought it to the holy Chozeh of Lublin. He set the kvittel before the tzaddik and asked for salvation, but the Chozeh said nothing. The man understood that his salvation must be far off and hard to bring about, so he tried another approach and reminded the Chozeh that they were related, and begged him to help one of his own flesh and blood. In truth they were second or third cousins through shared grandparents. The Chozeh said, “Nu, it's a distant relation,” and left it at that. The man turned away sadly.

Rav Naftoli of Ropshitz, a talmid of the Chozeh, saw him leaving with his head down and asked what had happened. The man told him everything, including the failed mention of his family ties. Rav Naftoli smiled. “I know just the thing,” he said. “Soon the Rebbe will daven Minchah. When he reaches the first berachah of the silent Shemoneh Esrei and says, ‘G-d of Avraham, G-d of Yitzchok and G-d of Yaakov,’ listen for that moment and whisper back his own words: ‘Nu, it's just a distant relation.’ That will surely work.”

The man did as he was told. As the tzaddik davened, at the place where we invoke the merit of the Avos, he whispered, “Nu, it's just a distant relation.” After the tefillah, the Chozeh approached him and said, “You have succeeded, and your salvation has come. But tell me one thing. Was this one of Naftali's tricks?”

The Light of the Gartel

The Rav of Madin, a grandson of the Ropshitzer, related the following. After Minchah each day, Rav Elimelech of Lizhensk had the custom of speaking with his close chassidim, and then he went into a private room to daven Maariv alone, in purity and holiness. His talmid, Rav Naftoli, longed to see how his Rebbe davened there and to watch his every deed.

One day he slipped into the room unnoticed and hid under the bed. The Rebbe came in, closed the door and took out his gartel to put it on. As he wound it around his waist the first time, an awesome, unearthly light filled the room. At the second winding the light grew so intense that Rav Naftoli could no longer bear it. He felt faint and cried out.

Rav Elimelech recognized the voice. “Naftali, my son, are you here?” he asked. “It is fortunate that you did not stay for the third winding. Had you remained, your soul would have left your body from the intensity of that light.”

Interrupting the Rapture

A tradition from a son-in-law of the Dzikover Rebbe tells that Rav Naftoli of Ropshitz sat at the Shalosh Seudos table of his teacher, the Noam Elimelech. Watching the Rebbe from his place at the table, he understood that if Rav Elimelech stayed any longer in such rapture, his soul might, Heaven forbid, depart.

Rav Naftoli rapped on the table and said with a smile, “The verse says that Hashem will turn to us from His place in mercy. Are there brooms in Heaven to sweep with?” (In Yiddish, the word for turning is the same as the word for sweeping.) “The verse simply means that He should turn from His place with mercy.”

The jest pulled Rav Elimelech out of his deveikus. Dreading the Rebbe's displeasure, Rav Naftoli hurried from the table to his lodgings. Rav Elimelech summoned him and said, “How dare you interrupt my ecstasy?” Rav Naftoli replied, “We still need the Rebbe here in this world.” Seeing that his talmid had acted out of good intentions, Rav Elimelech said, “Yasher koach,” and gave him the honor of leading the bentching.

Two Challos

The Yashnitzer Rav, a talmid of the Ropshitzer, was once asked by his own students for a wondrous story about his Rebbe. This is what he told them.

As a youth in Rymanow he had a close friend, and the two often traveled together to the holy Ropshitzer. It was the Rebbe's custom to hand out challos himself to those who came to his Shabbos tisch. Whenever the two friends came forward, he gave them two challos still joined to each other. They took it as a sign that the Rebbe saw how closely they were bound to one another.

One day they quarreled, and their friendship cracked. That Friday night at the tisch, the Rebbe handed each of them a single challah, because he felt that their hearts were no longer together. After the meal the Yashnitzer Rav sought out his friend, and they made peace. At the Shabbos day seudah they came before the Rebbe again, and he handed them two challos, joined once more.

Emunah and Simchah in Golus

The pasuk in Tehillim speaks of declaring Hashem's kindness in the morning and His faith at night. For this reason Chazal instituted the berachah of Emes Ve'emunah in Maariv. Night stands for golus, when Hashem's kindnesses are hidden and we need extra strength. Yaakov, leaving Eretz Yisroel for Choron, shows us the way. There he davened for the Mokom, for Hashem Himself, and not for his own needs. The Rav of Ropshitz notes that the word Mokom has the same numerical value as one of the spellings of Hashem's Name. He taught that in golus we must strengthen ourselves with emunah and simchah. Just as a father rejoices to see his children happy, Hashem, our Father in Heaven, rejoices when His children are joyful. Only the Torah, written with twenty-two letters, remains with us in golus.

Zera Kodesh, Bereishis, Vayetzei (on Bereishis 28:11)

Daven in Every Circumstance

Rav Naftoli stressed the power of tefillah. A person must be able to daven in all circumstances, and must never say, “I don't have the head for davening now.”

Attributed teaching

A Tzaddik Creates a New World

Asked how a tzaddik can undo a Heavenly decree, Rav Naftoli replied that through his deeds and tefillos a tzaddik creates a new world, and the old decree does not apply to it.

Attributed teaching